By Chris Suddeth
We have all had that feeling of being on the outside looking in at some point in our lives. These points in time differ in duration, intensity, and situations, but they are still there, ever present and as about as welcome as mosquitoes and no-see’ums at a picnic. We find ourselves thinking the other guy or gal has it together, when, in fact, they are fighting, or have fought, their own battles. We just get too caught up in our own junk to notice theirs.
The vision of being the odd kid left out on the playground comes to mind and will certainly hit home with the masses. How do you think Michael Collins felt? The reason many won’t recognize the name because he wasn’t Buzz Aldrin or my fraternity brother, Neil Armstrong. Michael Collins had to be an elite human in his profession to be that odd kid out, but without that odd kid, July 20, 1969 may have been a very different day for planet Earth.
I’m not saying that we don’t push ourselves daily to be that elite odd kid, rather than cede to the come hither call of the couch and a good Dallas marathon. (Yes, I have all fourteen seasons of Dallas on DVD. What can I say; good TV stands the test of time. But when we are pushing here and pulling there on consistent basis, with limited or no palatable results it’s easy to fall into fits of frustration.
I have found myself in the role of the odd kid, in the doldrums of my process, and still find myself taking the “woe is me” route here and there. But that route became, and continues to become, less traveled once I decided it was time to honor my own process.
It’s all about the journey, isn’t it, or we wouldn’t feel the urge to walk that walk in the first place? We don’t dig up seeds in a garden a few days after planting them and wonder, “Why aren’t these vegetables already?” I like Wayne Dyer, who asks, “Was the Law of Flotation discovered by contemplating the sinking of things?”
Let’s talk about setting intentions, letting go, and letting God. When we intend something to happen and hang on to it verbatim, we don’t allow things to unfold as they could, should, or would. They could turn out better if we’d only allow and honor our process. Another, often unconsidered possibility is that our angels or spirit guides could be holding us back for a variety of reasons that fit into our highest and best purpose, not necessarily our highest convenience or best comfort.
Sometimes life unfolds in chaotic and random events, but upon reflection, our tapestry of life plays like a beautiful symphony bringing us to where we currently reside. At that point you may want to thank God for unanswered prayers.
When we put in true effort and gratitude while honoring and owning the process we are going through to get from point A to Z, pressure is released and appreciation of the NOW comes to bare. As an experiment, meditate on gratitude and feel its effects on your body and psyche. For contrast, meditate on the frustration of not achieving XYZ and feel its effects.
Just appreciating your process is both freeing and gratifying. You’re probably saying, “Sutty, that sounds swanky, but how do I get there?” If you are quitting smoking, give yourself credit for all the lung darts not inhaled, rather than beating yourself up over the drunken 1 a.m. slip-up. Always give yourself credit for how far you’ve trekked in any given issue rather than staring at the moon until your eyes water and lamenting your short-comings.
Cease texting while driving your life and truly honor what your daily process. The results may not be immediate, but you’ll be tickled, while being more productive, which is way better than being frustrated and feeling inferior to someone who’s only talent may be just talking a better game.
When Chris Suddeth (Sutty) isn’t being Mr. Mom to 5 year old, Emma Belle, he balances his time between writing, real estate and supporting other’s healing through his personal blend of Reiki, Theta Healing®, Intuitive Healing, as well as teaching all three levels of Reiki attunement classes. You can contact him at (843) 263-2397 or firstname.lastname@example.org.